


no life too small

by renecdote



Series: hc_bingo 2018 [4]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Asphyxiation, Dick is a Good Brother, Fire, Gen, Kittens, or near asphyxiation, smoke inhalation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 02:41:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15500526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renecdote/pseuds/renecdote
Summary: “Thought I heard something,” Tim says over his shoulder as he slips through the shadows of the hall and down the stairs. Further into the smoke thickening the air.Dick and Tim get trapped in a burning house.





	no life too small

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Batfam Week Day 2: Trapped. Also fills the "asphyxiation" square on my hurt/comfort bingo card.

**** Dick feels the heat before he sees the smoke curling up the stairs and through the house. When he pauses to listen, he can hear the faint crackle of flames licking up the old timber walls. It's coming from somewhere on the right side of the house, he thinks. The kitchen, maybe, or the living room.

His mind flashes back to the gas bottles stored in the garage they'd snuck in through. If the fire reaches that far… Even if it doesn't, they don't have rebreathers on them tonight and too much exposure to the smoke could kill them before the fire gets a chance.

“We need to leave,” Dick says. They haven’t found any evidence that Mark Lowell, owner of the house and typical Gotham scumbag, is fencing stolen goods for Penguin yet, but better to show up at the Cave with nothing and their lives than, well, not show up at all.

Dick sees a glimpse of white lenses from his partner for the night, but doesn't get a verbal acknowledgement. His quick steps toward the closest window are halted by the flash of red he catches out of the corner of his eye. A flash of red blatantly ignoring his directive and going in the opposite direction.

“Robin,” he snaps, reaching for a cape that slithers through his fingers before he can grasp it and pull his (stupid, reckless, idiotic, stubborn) little brother back.

“Thought I heard something,” Tim says over his shoulder as he slips through the shadows of the hall and down the stairs. Further into the smoke thickening the air. He at least has the common sense to stay low.

Dick sighs. He ducks into the bathroom and snatches two washcloths out of the cupboard, soaking them in water then ringing them out. He holds one over his mouth and nose, thankful for the mask that keeps the smoke from irritating his eyes, and hurries down the stairs after Robin. 

He finds him in the laundry room. The heat is oppressive down here, the smoke polluting any oxygen that hasn't already been sucked out of the air. Tim is coughing, doubled over on his knees, and Dick kneels down to shove the damp washcloth over the lower half of his face, guiding his little brother’s hand to hold it himself. It's probably a useless gesture at this point, but surely it's better than nothing.

Behind them, something pops and a framed picture falls off the wall. “We need to go,” Dick insists, trying to tug Tim up by his cape and keep an eye on the fire burning the house down around them at the same time. The air is getting thinner, the damp cloths no longer enough. They do an alright job keeping them from breathing in smoke but they won’t help if there’s no oxygen left to breath.

“Wait-” Tim coughs, choking and gasping for air that he could get if he'd just let Dick drag him outside. “-the kittens.”

The-? Dick glances down and sees the two wriggling balls of fluff Tim is clutching against his stomach. They're mewling pitifully, he's not sure how he didn't notice it before, the sound almost drowned out by the fire and Tim’s coughing. 

“There's two more,” his brother says, pointing at a basket of towels. “I can't carry them all.”

_Bloody hell_ , Dick thinks, but Tim’s face is set in the kind of determination that had him knocking on Bruce Wayne’s front door almost two years ago, so he scoops up the kittens. He wouldn’t be happy to leave them behind either, but breathing is getting a lot harder than he’s comfortable with and his number one priority is getting his little brother out safely.

The front door isn't an option, neither is the jump from the second floor he'd been planning earlier, not with the kittens. Dick tugs on the window at the back of the laundry, but it refuses to budge.

“Next room,” he orders, swallowing a cough. His chest is starting to feel tight, like being tied up with coils of rope pulled too tight. It’s a sensation Dick has more experience with than he’d like, but at least with kidnappings he doesn’t have to worry about hungry flames choking the oxygen out of the room. He pushes Robin ahead of him into the hallway. “We’ve got to find another window.”

Tim shakes his head, “Back door.”

There's a growing wall of flames between them and the most direct route to the back door. Another ominous pop and a swell of heat almost has Dick stepping back. He pushes forward instead, forcing Tim to move ahead of him. “Too risky,” he says, voice clipped. Tendrils of fear are starting to burn at his throat and tangle in his chest. “Window. Go. Now.”

“We can't climb out the window with the kittens!”

Dick ignores Tim, slamming the door to the room they stumble into - a guest room - shut behind them. Any more protests Tim wants to make are swallowed by a harsh coughing fit. Dick wishes he could take a moment to rub his brothers back, help him get his breath back, but there isn't enough time or air. He pulls open the closest window and thanks whatever guardian angel has kept them from dying so far that it doesn't have a fly screen.

Ideally, he would lift Tim through first, but his brother is still coughing, clutching the kittens to his chest and refusing to let go when Dick tries to take them. He just shakes his head and mumbles something about Bruce needing Dick more. It's a self-sacrificing, defeatist attitude that Dick is going to talk out of him as soon as they get out of here. Right now, though, Tim is stubborn and they don't have time to argue. Dick shimmies through the window as quickly as possible, kittens tucked against his neck, then reaches out to take the other two and pull Tim out. Acrid black smoke is thickening the air even out here and Dick’s lungs burn as he coughs. 

Tim is almost all of the way through the window when the fire reaches the garage. The explosion sends them both flying. 

\--

It feels like his throat is shrinking, slowly closing as it tries to squeeze out all the smoke that he's inhaled. He opens his mouth, draws in a breath to speak, and chokes on it. Daggers slice through his throat as he coughs. He tries to curl in on himself as each jerky movement ignites throbbing from his abdomen to his head. Familiar scarred hands keep him on his back, pressing gently on his shoulders

“Tim-?” He's finally able to gasp, voice distorted through the oxygen mask. It seems impossible but talking is almost more painful than coughing, the words scraping against swollen tissue and past dry, cracked lips. But the pain will be worth it if Bruce can tell him his little brother is okay.

But Bruce doesn't say Tim is okay. He squeezes Dick’s hand once, the gesture short and as far from reassuring as his blunt, clinical tone when he says, “Alive.”

Alive is… alive is good news, but it's not okay. Okay would mean he's a bit beat up but recovering. Alive could mean anything from critical to doing alright but still unconscious. Alive means cause for worry. 

“You should get some more rest,” Bruce says. “Alfred can fill you in when you can breathe on your own.”

Dick ignores the suggestion. “The kittens?” he asks because Tim almost died - they _both_ almost died - for those kittens, they better be okay.

The look on Bruce’s face says he doesn't agree. He may be a softy with a saviour complex but cute little animals don't come close when they're weighed against his family's lives. “The kittens will be fine,” he says. “But if you ever risk getting caught in an explosion to save an animal again, I will bench you. Indefinitely.”

Dick knows he means _I’m so glad you both made it out_. He dredges up a tired grin and squeezes his mentor’s hand. Bruce knows he means _I’m glad too._


End file.
